


Bodies

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Swap, Come Sharing, Come as Lube, Derek plays with Stiles' body, Frustration, Guilt, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Oblivious Stiles, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Stiles plays with Derek's body, pissed off witch, spell gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:36:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was staring at himself in Derek's loft, the still-smouldering remains of a spell that did not work as stated in the book drifting between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Now if we're talking body

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 3 of the Merry Month of Masturbation

"So… this is new."

"Stiles." He was used to hearing his name said like that, low and growly and jagged with irritation but never with his own voice. 

"Whoa."

Stiles didn't know he could make that sound.

But then he wasn't the one actually making it. Kind of.

Stiles was staring at himself in Derek's loft, the still-smouldering remains of a spell that did _not_ work as stated in the book drifting between them.

" _Stiles_." 

There was his voice, all low and near-snarling again so he snapped out of it and jumped into action.

Tried to.

He reached for the remnants of the circle on Derek's floor and saw his hands. 

That were not his hands.

"What?" he muttered, looked down at himself. "Oh shit."

Stiles looked up at… well, himself. The other him was pissed, arms crossed and frowning, making his brow heavy and dark and—

"Oh, _shit_ ," Stiles repeated. "Derek?"

"Got there, did you?" Derek replied sarcastically, but in Stiles' voice. 

"I… hmm," Stiles started, then cleared his throat. "Do re me fa sol—"

"Stop it, Stiles. What the hell happened?" Derek gestured to the mess on the floor.

Stiles shook his head as if to clear it and stepped into the circle, now that it was destroyed. He poked at the remains, noticed that the bird feather was still intact.

"She knew," Stiles said grimly. "The witch somehow knew we were putting up a warding spell to get her our of the town. She decided to one-up us, it seems."

"Fix it!" Derek demanded.

"Would if I could, champ," Stiles replied, standing up and rubbing his hands on his … now very muscular torso. He ran his hands over his midsection and felt the abs under the thin t-shirt Derek put on that morning.

"Stiles," Derek snapped. "Focus."

"Sorry, but this is new to me!"

Derek scrunched up Stiles' face and made a gesture as if to say, "And it isn't for me?"

"I have to talk to Deaton to sort this out. You're gonna have to sit tight," Stiles replied with a shrug of his new very broad, very well-muscled shoulders.

"And what the hell do you expect me to do while I wait?" Derek demanded.

"Fucking wait for me," Stiles snarled suddenly, feeling an instant and foreign spike of annoyance. Stiles could feel an itching under his gums and a prick at the tips of his fingers. "Uh, wow."

Derek eyed him knowingly. "Go quick, I don't want to deal with the fall out if you lose control of my wolf." 

"And I don't want you to… " Stiles gestured at his own body. "Stretch me out."

Unfortunate turn of phrase because Stiles watched his own cheeks redden and he knew immediately where Derek's mind went and oh god, he needed to get to Deaton right now.

"I'll be back soon," Stiles said hurriedly and left before Derek could protest.

He sped (just a little) over to the vet clinic in the Toyota after he found Derek's keys in his pocket. Obviously.

Deaton was a bit befuddled, to say the least, but he believed Stiles as soon as be burst in and announced, "I'm Stiles in a big, grumpy body!"

At this point in Beacon Hills why would anyone disbelieve anything that sounded outlandish and insane?

Deaton said he'd make some calls and check out some of his texts to see if there was something about the spell itself that alerted the witch, if there was an easy reversal and Stiles said he'd send Scott and the rest of the gang out to look for where she was holed up. 

Stiles wasn't sure what he should do, honestly. He felt incredibly awkward in Derek's body, none of this embracing of the heightened senses he always saw in movies or TV. He was also hung up on the thought of Derek in _his_ body and what he would think of him. How defenceless he likely felt, and out of place. 

He sat in the parking lot, slumped in the seat of the Toyota that still fit Derek's body even if Stiles knew how he'd have to reposition it to fit his own lanky build. They were just about the same height but Derek had more bulk, liked to have more room to fit his shoulders and it felt natural for his left leg to fall to the side as he drove. 

Stiles moved his leg back and forth, testing it out different ways. His jeans were tighter than Stiles wore his pants and the denim rubbed against his cock through what Stiles figured were boxer briefs.

Stiles got an idea.

He looked around where he was parked, at the back of the vet clinic. The only other vehicle was Deaton's and he was going to be inside for another couple of hours. There was no one else about so Stiles figured "why not?"

He unsnapped the button on Derek's jeans and unzipped slowly, heart already beating faster at the sensation of his cock filling with anticipation. Stiles didn't know enough about this body swap stuff to know if Derek's body was reacting because it was a physical reaction or because Stiles' mind was thinking filthy thoughts.

He didn't rightly care at that moment.

He raised his hips enough to push the jeans down—holy shit, couldn't Derek find clothes that weren't clingier than plastic wrap?— and ran his hand over his cock through the black boxer briefs. Of course they were black.

He wrapped his hand loosely around the girth, feeling the heat and thickness, memorizing how it felt when he dragged his nails up the length through the fabric. He stroked slowly, taking his time. Every time his hand stroked down he'd reach a little further between his legs until his fingertips were near his taint and hole, the temptation growing.

If he was going to do this he'd do it right and he slipped the boxers down with the jeans at his ankles on the floor mat. 

Derek's cock was nice. Lovely, if Stiles was being honest. It was thick and firm, with a vein running up the underside that was run to run his finger up from the balls to the tip where a drop of precome was waiting for him.

Stiles gathered it on a fingertip and brought it to his mouth, letting the taste sit on his tongue.

He didn't know what would get him off, in Derek's body. He shoved the black t-shirt up and ran one hand over his lower pelvis where Stiles liked to be touched sometimes, so close to his cock but not actually touching, while his other hand wrapped around his cock with a light grip.

Stiles felt his muscles jump under the feeling, apparently Derek was ticklish there. Stiles trailed his hand up his abs, enjoying the feeling of them under his touch. His pecs were a definite point of interest, though. Stiles liked having his nipples tweaked as much as the next guy but damn, Derek's body blew _up_ when Stiles rolled one between his fingertips.

Stiles let his cock go and licked a stripe up the palm and encircled it again, stroking firm from the base up and playing with the head every time more precome leaked out of the tip. He used it as more slick.

Stiles felt hot all over, wanted to spread his body out and sprawl over a bed so he'd have room to move but obviously he'd have to settle for what he had.

So nipples were a go but what about the balls? Stiles moved his hand down his torso to cup and tug at the heavy balls between his legs. He fingered at his taint, tickling and smoothing the skin there, taking in the way his heart sped up and his cock jumped in his other hand. 

Stiles grinned and let his hand drift down more, circling around his hole. He pulled back just for a second and sucked on his middle finger letting the drool roll down his digits to his hand and smoothed it back down, tried pushing just the tip past the entrance, but he was already too far gone to get any further.

He went back to his balls and tugged, rolled them in his hand while he moved his other hand faster on his cock, playing the thumb over the tip with every upstroke. 

Stiles could feel his orgasm building, felt like there was an ocean roaring in his head, and he pressed his thumb against his taint, scratched just a little with his thumb that tore a growl from his throat while his cock jumped and spurted into his hand.

Stiles held on until he stopped moving, when he could relax against the seat and look down at his abs that caught some of the mess his hand missed. When he caught his breath he shrugged and brought his hand to his mouth, tasting Derek.

He licked his hand clean, then scooped up what was left on his skin. With Derek's senses he could smell _sex_ in the vehicle now but hopefully by the time they were switched back the car would be aired out. He couldn't even use his shirt or boxers to clean up like he would have done in his own body. 

So for the moment Stiles was content to sit in Derek's jeep, naked ass to the leather seat and his cock spent on his thigh, while he basked in the aftermath of a werewolf jerkoff.


	2. You got a perfect one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He paced back and forth in the loft, tried to take measured steps because his mind remembered how many steps it usually took to get from his bedroom to the couch but Stiles’ legs were longer than his and it threw him off. 
> 
> How in the hell did Stiles wear these stupid pants? They were baggy as hell and he caught his feet on his pant legs a couple times. He shucked the plaid shirt Stiles put on that morning over the t-shirt and balled it up to throw on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 of Merry Month of Masturbation continues and yesterday's ficlet got a continuation, yay!

Wait for him.

_Wait for him_.

Fucking _**wait for him**_.

Derek tried to growl his frustration but it was harder to do in Stiles’ body and his throat hurt from the effort. 

He paced back and forth in the loft, tried to take measured steps because his mind remembered how many steps it usually took to get from his bedroom to the couch but Stiles’ legs were longer than his and it threw him off. 

How in the hell did Stiles wear these stupid pants? They were baggy as hell and he caught his feet on his pant legs a couple times. He shucked the plaid shirt Stiles put on that morning over the t-shirt and balled it up to throw on the couch.

Fucking Stiles and his fucking spell. Never mind that it was Lydia who found it in some book. Or that Deaton was the one who advised and gave them the materials to perform it. Or _himself_ for insisting Stiles do it under his supervision. 

Fuck everything. 

Derek stewed. He sat on his couch and stared at a spot on the wall. He tried reading but Stiles’ body was twitchy in a way he wasn’t used to and he couldn’t settle down. Tried to work out but what Derek’s body was accustomed to Stiles’ wasn’t and he wasn’t sure how far he could push it. He cleaned for a little while, busy work, but he kept getting distracted by Stiles’ hands. 

His fingers were so long and slender, reminded him of spider legs, in a way. But they were strong; Derek felt how well they gripped his barbells when he lifted for a few minutes before he gave up. Stiles’ nails were clean and trim, not bitten to the quick like he always thought in the back of his mind, for some reason. Derek had seen Stiles’ hands before, had felt them on his arm or back at times, but had never truly noticed them.

Curious and restless, a terrible combination, Derek headed for the bathroom and stared at Stiles’ face in the mirror. His new face for however long this spell lasted. 

Derek poked at Stiles’ teeth and gums, stuck his tongue out. He ran a hand through his hair, to get a feel for how Stiles always did it. He flexed his neck and face muscles in an odd attempt to wiggle Stiles’ ears. 

Didn’t work.

He turned his head back and forth to catch the profile from either side, noticed the strong slope of Stiles’ nose. The movements drew Derek’s attention to Stiles’ neck. He slid one hand up the long column and felt the motions under his palm while he swivelled his head. Derek enjoyed the strength he felt there.

Let his mind wonder what it would be like if his own hand clasped the back to …

Nothing.

Derek shook his head and shrugged his shoulders a couple times to shake off whatever he was about to think. 

He pulled the t-shirt out and peeked under, cheeks flushing a little, because this felt like an invasion of Stiles’ privacy. But then Stiles felt _his_ abs up the first chance he got so what the hell?

He pulled the t-shirt up and raised an eyebrow. Stiles was… not lacking. He was more defined than Derek would have thought, for sure. Derek let the shirt fall back down and dropped a hand to the button of Stiles’ khakis—

“Derek!”

Derek was startled and jumped backwards, crashing into the wall behind him and wincing. Was Stiles _always_ this jumpy?

He ran downstairs to where Stiles was waiting for him. He came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and looked at Stiles weird.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“Do I really look like that?” Derek asked, pointing to his face. Stiles snorted.

“Pretty much. I think it must be your default because I didn’t realize I _was_ making a face.”

Derek rolled his eyes and this time it was Stiles who gave him a look at the expression. He shook his head and continued. “Deaton’s got Scott and the others out looking for the witch. It’s best we stay behind because neither of us are going to be much good in the search. I don’t know how to work your body and I don’t want you getting mine mangled or broken.”

Derek refrained from rolling his eyes again but generally agreed. He knew he didn’t feel confident doing anything remotely dangerous in Stiles’ body, and he would never even try it, so it was good to know Stiles was in the same boat. 

Both of them were off their game and vulnerable, which made the whole pack at risk if they were worried about protecting them in a fight.

“Best to stay out of it for now,” Derek conceded.

“You have to do something for me, though,” Stiles said and Derek’s eyes narrowed.

“Nothing bad, I swear! You have to go home and be me, just for a few hours. My dad is on night shift, eight to eight, but we’re supposed to have dinner. I took chicken breasts out of the oven, there’s carrots in the fridge and I have a whole salad already made,” Stiles pleaded. 

Derek couldn’t ever remember cajoling someone in his life, at least not since long before the fire, and it was a look that even he could admit was somewhat better than a frown.

“I’ll do it but why don’t we just tell him?” Derek asked, out of curiosity.

“My dad has already had to learn a lot of stuff I never wanted him to know. If he found out body swapping was an option thrown around so casually I doubt I’d never be allowed out of the house until I was thirty and that’s only if he didn’t have a heart attack first,” Stiles explained and Derek got it. He wasn’t sure if it was because of simple human emotion of wanting to look out for family or because he could feel a weird muscle memory-esque sensation while thinking of Stiles’ dad. 

“I’ll go now. Anything I should avoid talking about or shouldn’t bring up?”

Stiles looked back at him, as if stricken by the thought of the possibilities. “Uh, just… go with your gut. If it sounds like something he’d disapprove of, don’t bring it up. And considering he knows I’m part of a group of werewolves, hunters, banshees and other assorted supernatural whatnots if the gut screams no, it’s not advisable.”

Derek nodded. “Gotcha.”

“I’ll come over later and we’ll hang out or something, I don’t know. Probably best not to be alone while the witch is on the loose.”

Derek nodded. “Sounds good. Can I have my keys?”

Stiles grinned. “You’re me, remember? Be good to my baby, she’s a little finicky to get into first.”

Derek sighed but nodded. “What are you going to do in the meantime?”

Derek was sure that his cheeks got a bit red but without the werewolf senses he couldn’t check for a faster heartbeat or scent any reactions so for all he knew it was just a common reaction. But he didn’t have time to push it. 

“Hang out here, check back through the books Deaton gave me originally for the spell and see if there’s something I missed or something that we can use against the witch.”

“See you later, I guess.”

Stiles gave him a salute in parting, such a weird Stiles-esque gesture in his body, and Derek left. He took the elevator, not trusting himself not to trip over Stiles legs down the stairs.

The drive back to the Stilinski house was fine. The Jeep was manageable, even if it wasn’t the smoother ride he was used to. Once at the house he greeted Stiles’ dad and kept the conversation light while he did a basic baked chicken and prepared the carrots with a honey garlic glaze he whipped up from memory. He didn’t often cook but being around a nice kitchen again, more than the basic stovetop and blender he had at the loft, reminded him how much he used to like helping with family meals.

Over the meal the Sheriff raved about the carrots and Derek made note to tell Stiles how to make them for next time. The conversation stayed thankfully light and easy. The Sheriff did the dishes and Derek made up an excuse of researching something that Stiles’ dad didn’t even blink at. He escaped up the stairs and closed the door to Stiles’ room with a relieved breath.

He sat uneasily at Stiles’ desk, unsure of what to do while he waited out the last hour before the Sheriff left for work. He wiggled his leg, got up, sat down. Wiggled some more.

Realized he had to pee.

“You’d think that kind of thing would be universal,” Derek mumbled to himself, as he slinked across the hall to the bathroom.

This was something new. 

Derek stared straight ahead as he carefully unbuttoned and unzipped Stiles’ pants. He wasn’t sure… well, how to… Just. 

“Oh, fuck,” Derek whispered and looked down. He was in Stiles’ body with Stiles’ hands that touched Stiles’ dick every day. He wasn’t about to piss himself.

He grabbed his cock and aimed, got through the duty in a perfunctory manner, washed and hurried back to Stiles’ room.

Thing is, though. 

Apparently Stiles’ body reacted to how he held himself or maybe it was just that time of day or goddammit, maybe it was Derek’s fucking brain with the image of Stiles’ cock in his mind. Any way it was it led to Stiles’ cock getting hard between his legs and tenting the boxers and khakis.

Derek sat down and tried staring at a point on the wall to ignore it, tried looking around Stiles’ room at totally innocuous things. 

Tried waking Stiles’ computer but one of the first things he saw was an open tab for a video titled “Muscle Daddy Fucks Twink” and he slammed the cover shut as quickly as he could without breaking it.

“Oh, fuck,” Derek swore and stood up quickly. He opened Stiles’ pants again and shoved them down his legs with his boxers, stepped out of them and kicked them back as he threw himself on the bed.   
 He’d been in Stiles’ room enough while in his own body to know Stiles kept lube somewhere around his bed and it was used on a fairly regular basis. He palmed his cock while looking around the shelves by Stiles’ bed with the other hand, until finding a half-empty bottle of slick behind a stack of books on myths and urban legends.

Derek didn’t know if it was the threat of being caught doing this with the Sheriff still in the house or the possibility that Stiles could show up at any moment, attempting to come through his own window like Derek often did or if Stiles trained his body to get off as quickly as possible but he was panting for his hand as soon as he clicked the tube open. Like Pavlov’s dogs his cock was drooling pre-come onto his hand, making the head shiny while Derek kept his hand encircling the base and tugging there gently.

He used too much lube, didn’t care. Closed his hand tightly, as much as he could stand, and shoved his hips up into the circle. Slow at first until he got his bearings in Stiles’ lanky body. He stared down at himself, still covered in a t-shirt but naked from the waist down. Pale, thin thighs dotted here and there with moles like his face and neck and the view of them spreading apart a little every time his hips thrust up made his balls throb.

Derek, if he was in his own body, would take the time to tease out what worked on Stiles. What he liked best and what would make his head tip back in pleasure and his words stop up from ecstasy. What would Derek have to do to Stiles so he’d have to shove a hand in his mouth so his dad wouldn’t hear his moans from just down the stairs?

Derek should have been more shocked when he realized he was thinking about fucking Stiles into this very mattress but he didn’t care. He could feel the build start in his chest, let the sloppy-slick sounds of his wet hand around his dick push him further, wished Stiles was there with him, wanted to do this to him for real, wouldn’t let him come because this was going to be over too—

Derek came hard, curling up into a ball while his stomach clenched and his balls emptied and he made a total mess of the t-shirt he was wearing. 

“Stiles, I’m leaving!” The Sheriff called up the stairs. Nothing could break an afterglow quicker than the sound of a parent’s voice cutting through the haze.

Derek hopped up quickly, opened the door just enough to stick his head out and yelled, “O-okay dad! See you in the morning!”

“Love you!” 

“Love you, too!”

Derek waited for a second, hoped that was the right response. Must’ve been because the front door closed and Derek was moving around the room quickly. He opened the window and threw the bedroom door wide open, hoping for air circulation. He ran to the bathroom and washed up, wishing he could be gentler with his spent dick but didn’t have time. He pulled the soiled t-shirt off and threw it at the bottom of the laundry hamper, hoped it would get thrown in the wash like normal and never found. 

He pulled Stiles’ boxers and pants back on and was just pulling a new t-shirt on when Derek heard the front door open again. In seconds Stiles was in his room, not even out of breath and grinning and Derek hated him for a split second.

Stiles eyed him as he smoothed out the t-shirt. 

 “Spilled something,” Derek said in answer to Stiles’ unasked question. He had experience lying to werewolves, luckily, so Stiles wouldn’t pick up on any weirdness with his heartbeat, if he’d managed to figure that much out yet.

Stiles glanced around his room, somewhat warily, but seemed to be okay once his gazed settled on Derek again. “Got any leftovers? I’m _starved_.”

Derek grinned in relief and nodded. “I figured. Come on. Then we can see if muscle memory will kick in and if I can beat your ass at Mario Cart for once.”

Stiles led the way down the stairs, laughing. “You wish, man! You wish.”

“You don’t know how much,” Derek muttered and followed behind.


	3. So put it on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both knew the other explored their temporary bodies. 
> 
> They both knew there was a new level of familiarity between them.
> 
> They both knew things were different now.
> 
> Problem was, they **both** knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For day 5 of Merry Month of Masturbation and the third part of the Bodies series that seemed to come out of nowhere!
> 
> Chapter and overall series titles from "Talking Body" by Tove Lo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlYbDjwBe2Y

They pretended nothing happened.

Not the body swap, no. That was all anyone in the pack could talk about for weeks after it happened.

Stiles and Derek absolutely refused to speak about anything that happened while they were body swapped for those, roughly, 36 hours. Stiles knew Derek poked around his room and in his computer browser history. Derek knew Stiles ate in the Toyota, put a hole in the sleeve of his leather jacket and flirted with the girl at the drive thru at McDonalds. 

They both knew the other explored their temporary bodies. 

They both knew there was a new level of familiarity between them.

They both knew things were different now.

Problem was, they _both_ knew.

***

The witch situation was dealt with fairly easily, in the end. Scott tracked her down while using it as a training exercise for Liam. Turns out she was a kid, no older than the youngest werewolf, and she was looking for safe haven after running away from her family who were less than accepting of her abilities.

Scott, ever the softhearted for the underdog, took her back to Deaton's to plead her case. Stiles was less than happy when he arrived and growled once he heard her story, becoming a little too comfortable accepting Derek's mannerisms. 

But even he couldn't deny that she needed a safe place to stay, even if only for a short time. Or that he compared her immediately to Rogue in his head and that made him kind of like Wolverine and damn, that was cool.

"Only," he added as a condition, while Derek stood at the back of the exam room and watched warily. "If you change us back right away."

"Oh, that," Lillian, the witch, said with a laugh. "I just needed a distraction to find somewhere to hide. It'll wear off by midnight tonight. I use a lot of elemental magic in my spells so it has to do with the power of the moon cycle and it plays off the emotions of the target. Didn't realize I was in werewolf country so it worked a little better than I thought it would."

"What do you mean?" Derek asked, stepping forward for the first time.

"Well, werewolves have a cycle dependent on the moon. Um, like you're all aware, duh," Lillian said with a nervous giggle. "So if we were closer to the full moon the spell could have lasted longer or been more intense."

"Intense how?" Stiles asked.

"I don't like to use my magic to manipulate people around me often so I don't like to play with extremes like love or hate. Things get out of control too quickly that way. So I like to target the spell caster and what would be, perhaps, the most awkward? I can't necessarily pinpoint the cause of the awkwardness, if that makes sense. But it's a relatively innocent emotion but coupled with a body swap it can cause enough distraction to do the job."

Scott looked confused, then glanced between Stiles and Derek. "Huh?"

Stiles felt his cheeks warm up, understanding exactly what Lillian was talking about. At 18 Stiles was considered an adult but his body didn't necessarily get that memo when he was around Derek or Derek just _happened_ to pop into his thoughts at times. Knowing the werewolf could smell certain things made the past few years incredibly... yes, awkward for Stiles, and he thought he'd worked hard at keeping those things under wraps. 

His crush on Derek made them a target, basically.

"So we wait it out until the quarter moon, huh? Sounds good. Derek, I'll go to the loft to wait, you go to my house. By midnight we'll be fixed," Stiles said quickly and hightailed it out of the clinic.

Hopefully they'd never talk about this again.

Yeah, right.

***

Derek waited for a week after their bodies were switched back for Stiles to come stumbling back through the door to the loft. 

He waited for nothing. 

Derek wasn't deaf, dumb and blind. He was well aware of Stiles' attraction to him but he'd been dealing with it since he met the kid when he was _more_ spastic and annoying. Since then they'd fallen into a good pattern, one that worked for them and the pack as a whole. He _trusted_ Stiles. 

Made him do the spell in his loft on his wood floors, for fuck's sake, Derek thought, as he looked over at the char marks that would probably be there forever now. 

The witch didn't do anything malicious to them, just tried to look after herself with the only skills she had. She even tried to do it in the least harmful way possible, although nothing was foolproof with magic, of course. But Derek couldn't fault her for trying. Truth be told he felt kind of protective of her, wanted to take her in. 

Kind of like Wolverine in X-Men with Rogue, Derek thought randomly. 

None of it explained why Stiles wasn't back to his usual self yet, though. It was embarrassing, sure. Derek couldn't get into the Toyota without being overwhelmed by the smell of his own come inside, so he immediately knew what Stiles did. Not that he could say anything, either. 

Was Stiles upset that he'd used Stiles' body? Was he angry with Derek now?

The thought snapped at Derek's heels as he paced, finally able to walk the loft in the right count again. He didn't feel like he was going to trip over anything as he stepped, didn't have to stare down at Stiles' fucking _hands_ anymore. 

He knew how it felt to _be_ Stiles' body now, but not... not on it. Or in it, that way. To feel Stiles' hands on _him_. Would it feel different than Derek remembered using them on himself when he was in Stiles' skin? 

"Jesus Christ," Derek muttered and grabbed his jacket as he hurried out of the loft. 

***

Stiles laid on his bed in the dark, staring out the window as the last traces of sunshine disappeared behind the horizon. His dad was gone to work, left an hour before.

The body swap didn't simply _go away_. It was like wearing a pair of shoes for months, then a new pair just long enough to feel like they were comfortable, and going back to the old ones. They fit. They were fine. But they still felt weird, even after a short time in a different pair.

"Shitty analogy," Stiles mumbled to himself. 

Stiles felt like he was in a funk, something he couldn't shake. As soon as he was back in his own body he'd torn through his room and changed his sheets, flipped the mattress, washed the fucking _pillows_ , even. Did all his laundry from the hamper in the bathroom. 

 Found the shirt Derek "spilled" on the first night.

It was perverse but he'd wanted to keep it, as if it was Derek who actually came on that shirt and stuffed it under everything else like a shameful memory. He knew how his body reacted to the slightest stimuli, how Derek probably had no other option but to get off just to function right.

He couldn't stand the thought of Derek looking at him differently now, less of him. 

He didn't want to be the annoying guy who had no chance with the hot guy and made a fool out of himself with a stupid crush. Couldn't bear to see that uncomfortable look on Derek's face.

And just like clockwork, Stiles' cock twitched at the mere thought of Derek. Stiles groaned and turned his head to smash his face into his pillow.

"You okay?"

Stiles let out a muffled yell and jerked off the bed, rolling over the side so he had to peer back over to see if—yep. That was Derek. Derek was in his room. Apparently used the door and stairs like a normal person. 

Progress, woo.

"Stiles?" 

"Yep! M'fine!" Stiles called out and flipped onto his ass, facing away from Derek. "Thanks for checking, you can go now."

He listened as Derek hesitated in the doorway, could hear him breathing louder than normal. "A-are you sure?"

Stiles turned to look over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to leave?" Derek gestured to the door.

Part of pack training was learning doublespeak to throw off any potential threats from other werewolves looking for lies but Stiles was never good at it. And he didn't want to lie to Derek.

"No," he replied softly. Derek took a couple slow steps into the room and sat on the far corner of Stiles' bed. 

"You hiding from me?" Derek asked.

"What would give you that idea?" Stiles asked sarcastically. Derek sat stiffly while Stiles watched him warily out of the corner of his eye. He fidgeted with the hem of his track pants and wondered how long he'd have to wait this out.

"Come on, Stiles, it's not that big a deal!" Derek finally exclaimed, twisting his body to face him.

"Maybe not to you," Stiles said as he flipped around on his knees and scowled at Derek. "The witch didn't use your feelings against another person in one of the worst, most intrusive ways possible."

"No, but it turned out okay. It's fine, _we're_ fine, right?" Derek asked, sounding almost desperate as he stared hard at Stiles. But Stiles looked away and played with the bedspread under his fingers.

"We're fine," Stiles replied softly. 

"Fuck you!" Derek exploded. "Don't tell me what I want to hear!" He rose and stormed around the side of the bed to grab Stiles by the shoulders, hauled him up and held him so he could stare at him in the face. "Tell me the truth!"

"I've fought too hard for you to go back to thinking of me as a stupid kid who can't do anything right!"

Derek blinked and loosened his grip but didn't let Stiles go. "I don't think that."

Stiles scoffed. "Yeah, right. It was my fucking crush that got us into that whole mess to begin with! It's ridiculous!"

"To have a crush on me?" Derek asked in a quiet tone.

"I didn't want shit to go wrong between us. I've been dealing with this on my own for a while and now you know and I can't stand you looking at me like I'm that same kid from when we first met and you couldn't stand me." Stiles couldn't even look at Derek by the time he finished speaking but Derek tipped his head up and forced him to.

"You're so stupid," Derek growled and then he was kissing Stiles, really kissing him with his huge hands on Stiles' face and his beard rasping against Stiles' skin and wow.

***

Stiles being ashamed he had a crush on Derek would have been the worst thing Derek could have possibly heard at that moment. He felt his stomach start to drop like it was on a roller coaster before Stiles kept talking and explained he had his own hangups. Ones that made Derek's vision go red because he'd proven himself so much more than just a kid getting in the way.

He wasn't good with explaining things like Stiles was and, honestly, his response wasn't as eloquent as anything Stiles could have offered anyway. So he spoke through actions.

Stiles seemed surprised for about three seconds when Derek started kissing him and then he was grabbing at anything he could get his hands on. He was clutching at Derek's jacket, working his fingers under the hem of his t-shirt, trying to push the leather off, skimming his fingertips around Derek's waist to drag up his back, drawing a full body shudder from him.

"Jesus, Stiles," Derek gasped into his mouth and Stiles took that opportunity to bite lightly at Derek's bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue and slipping it in. Derek groaned at the bold move and opened his mouth deeper, licking in return at Stiles' mouth, drawing in the taste of him.

"Will you do something for me?" Derek asked, pulling away once he felt Stiles' hardening cock start to thrust against his hip.

"Anything," Stiles murmured back. Then he paused and drew back a little. "Wait, I could get in trouble saying something like that in this town. Anything with caveats."

Derek laughed, but then his eyes darkened with want as he thought about what he wanted to ask Stiles. He pushed Stiles around so he kneeled on the bed in front of Derek, face open from wonderment.

 "I want to watch you come," Derek said, voice gruff. He could feel his cheeks warm as he spoke but Stiles was nothing if not an all-or-nothing guy and it was time to show he could be too, at times.

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "Like..."

"I want to watch you get yourself off. I didn't know what would work best for you so I want to see you do it, see what it looks like. I want to watch you come all over yourself because I'm pretty sure my eyes were half closed for most of it," Derek said in a rush. Stiles closed his eyes and cursed, then licked his lips while he stared up at Derek.

"You too, then." And Derek's heart gave a painful thump. "Tit for tat. Or ding for dong," Stiles said with a snort, earning a light cuff on the head from Derek. But he let his jacket fall to the floor slowly and Stiles' eyes opened wide. 

He scrambled back on the bed, making room for both of them. He stripped his shirt over his head, and was out of his track pants quickly, but waited for Derek to do what became a slow striptease as he toed off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants, then dragged the bottom of his t-shirt up while following with his other hand, flicking over his nipples as they were exposed. 

He could hear Stiles' breathing get heavier and a quick glance saw Stiles' cock already straining in his boxers and Derek could smell the precome starting to bead at the tip. Derek massaged his nipples with two fingers on both hands, then flicked them, sending a jolt directly to his cock, and let his head tip back with a groan.

He finally pulled the t-shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor, then smoothed his hands back down his chest and torso, letting his fingertips dip just under the waistband of his jeans. Stiles was shifting on the bed, pressing the heel of one hand to the base of his cock while his eyes never left Derek's body. 

"I think I went about this all wrong when I did it," Stiles said in a hoarse voice, and Derek laughed, low and deep. The sound seemed to affect Stiles because he closed his eyes, bit his bottom lip and the scent of Stiles' leaking cock was getting stronger.

Derek drew his attention back with the sound of him slowly unzipping his jeans, letting the sides fall open to reveal that he wasn't wearing anything underneath. Stiles whined and started to edge forward on the bed but Derek held out a hand.

"This is about watching, remember?" Derek warned. 

"This is about killing me slowly," Stiles replied, whining. But he stayed where he was. 

Derek rocked his hips a little, shimmying as carefully as he could to ease the jeans down over his own hard cock that was shiny with precome down the shaft. He let his jeans drop to the floor and kicked them backwards, then kneeled carefully at the end of Stiles' bed.

"Now you," Derek said in a rough tone, nodding to Stiles' boxers. 

Stiles might have considered trying to do his own stripping routine but he was too far gone from the sound of his beating heart and harsh breathing. He sat back on his pillows and shoved them over his ass and down his legs, tossing them in the same direction as Derek's jeans.

"Together?" Derek asked, reaching between his legs and palming his cock gently. He was already sensitive and it wouldn't take very long for him to come, not with Stiles literally panting for him with in an arm's length.

"It's gonna take me about two seconds," Stiles said with a laugh, gesturing to where his cock was hard and pressed against his lower abdomen, leaving a streak of wet where it rested. Derek could remember how his length felt hot and solid in his palm and how responsive it was to his every touch. 

Derek's cock throbbed in response of the memory. He ran a hand down his own cock and groaned. Stiles was working his hand over his cock at the same time, staring at him between half-closed eyes. 

Derek got an idea and leaned forward on the bed, dangerously close to Stiles, but he bypassed him and reached for the lube where it was stashed before. Stiles whined again in frustration but before he could complain Derek squirted some lube into his own hand and covered Stiles hand with his until their fingers were intertwined, sloppy and both working over his cock. 

It didn't take more than a few strokes for Stiles' hips to start hitching and he grunted out a quick warning Derek didn't take. He was coming and shuddering, leaning against Derek's still-stretched out body and letting out soft, whining moans that Derek would play back for an eternity if he never got to experience this again.

He stroked Stiles until he gasped out for him to stop and pulled back with the bulk of Stiles' come in his own hand. Stiles slumped back on his pillows and watched as Derek used his hand full of Stiles' come and lube to work over his own shaft, using his other hand to play with his balls and squeeze them just enough to jolt Derek and send him growling into his own orgasm.

Stiles scrambled forward at the last second and opened his mouth, getting most of it in, on or around his mouth. If his refractory period was _that_ good Derek was sure he would have come again immediately at the vision of Stiles messy and swallowing him down.

Derek grabbed Stiles up with his last surge of energy and moved them to face each other at the head of the bed so he could lick his mess from Stiles' face, while Stiles' tongue fought him for the remains, ending in a sloppy, shared come-filled kiss.

***

"That," Stiles started some time later. "Was ... was. Um... words." He was slumped half on top of Derek with his leg thrown across Derek's waist.

"Did I break you?" Derek teased, running one hand up and down Stiles' thigh while the other held Stiles' hand between them.

"You broke my brain," Stiles moaned. "You're going to have to take care of me for the rest of my life because I can no longer word. Pretty sure my legs are jelly now, too."

Derek laughed but said softly, "I'll tale care of you."

"I know," Stiles murmured. 

"And because I want to and would be happy to. Even as friends," Derek continued, letting Stiles know—

"Or more than friends," Stiles interrupted his thoughts. He pressed kisses to Derek's upper arm, shoulder and collarbone, working his way to Derek's neck. "You're not getting rid of me now."

Derek nodded. "Okay."

"Sound good?"

"Sounds great."


End file.
